


Ashes to Ashes

by phdmama



Series: Feels Like Coming Home [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Feels Like Coming Home, Louis' POV, M/M, time stamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 21:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phdmama/pseuds/phdmama
Summary: This was written for the POV prompt from the No Excuses fic writer's meme on Tumblr.  "POV — something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective."Laurenrequested the cafe scene from Louis' POV. This is quickly written and proofed, all the errors are mine!There is also another time stamp (also requested by Lauren so blame her!) that was posted only to Tumber.You can read it here.





	Ashes to Ashes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FullOnLarrie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/gifts).



Louis steps off the T, lets the crowd push by him as he heads to the exit. Normally he’d walk or bike, his place really isn’t that far, but it’s raining and he doesn’t want to get soaked. Wants to make a good impression. He wipes his sweaty palms on his thighs as he lets the escalator, actually working for once, carry him up to the street.

He steps out into the gloom of the rainy October afternoon. It’s not that late, he’s got time before he has to head over to Mary’s for orientation, but he wanted to get this done, break the ice before they meet up at work. It’s not fair to Harry, Louis knows, to spring his presence on him like that, and also. He can’t help but have a small sliver of hope, as unfounded as he knows it to be.  

He takes a deep breath and makes his way down the sidewalk, past the Somerville Theater, until he sees the cafe. The neon lights are bright on such an overcast day, and the windows are almost entirely steamed up, but not so clouded over that he can’t see through them to a figure curled up in the back corner of the cafe.

His breath hitches and he curls in on himself, his first sight of Harry in well over three years hitting him like a fist to the gut. Harry’s hair is longer, and his posture is just as bad, and Louis knows that when he unfolds himself from the chair, his back will be screaming.

Louis closes his eyes against the memories that threaten to overwhelm him, and then carefully stands up straight, drops his shoulders and takes a deep breath, one than another, the way he’s been taught, until his chest eases. He sees Harry drain the last of his drink from the cheerful, polka dot mug and lick his lips. He wonders if Harry still drinks vanilla lattes, or if his tastes have changed.

He takes one last comforting breath and then walks to the door, and pulls it open. The wet heat of the interior rolls over him like a wave, and he’s almost immediately too hot. He makes his way through the crowded cafe, and sees as Harry glances at his watch and then closes his book and stuffs it into his bag. As Harry turns to grab the coat draped over the back of the chair, he catches sight of Louis, and he freezes.

“Louis?” Harry’s voice is hushed, shocked.

Louis nods and moves closer, tries to find the right words to say. “Harry. Niall told me you’d be here.”

He immediately wants to kick himself. He knows Niall hasn’t told Harry that they’ve been talking, can only imagine what this must feel like for Harry.

“What?” Harry sounds confused, almost bereft. “You talk to… Niall told you I was here?”

Louis runs a shaky hand through his hair, and searches Harry’s face for something, anything that might give him some hope.

“Yeah, we’ve been… we’ve been talking for a little while, I asked him not to tell you.”

Louis sees Harry’s mouth flatten at that and makes a note to let Niall know he’s accidently thrown him under the bus. He knows they’re close, knows Niall hasn’t felt good about hiding his reconnection to Louis from Harry, but Louis had begged for some time to get settled. But now, he’s out of time. Harry has to know.

“What are you doing here, Louis?” Harry’s voice is flat, implacable, and Louis starts to feel that tiny seedling of hope wilt.

He takes a breath and plunges on, ignoring the lump of ice that’s forming in his chest.

“Here as in Massachusetts? Um, well, I live here now. I moved back about a couple of months ago, to start, um, grad school. I’m, um, I’m living here in Somerville now, not too far from you and Niall actually.”  
  
“No. What are you doing _here_?” Harry’s voice is cold and even, and offers no mercy.  
  
“I was… I was hoping to see you, Harry. I thought maybe it would be easier than just, I don’t know, calling you. I don’t know if your cell is still the same, or if you’d even want to see me, but,” _fuck it,_ Louis thinks, _in for a penny, in for a pound._ He’s going to lay out all his cards and see what happens.  

“Fuck, Harry, I have so much to say to you. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea, and I was hoping we could…” His voice trails off at the flash of rage on Harry’s face, “I was hoping we could talk. Reconnect.”  
  
“Reconnect? Reconnect _what,_ Louis?”

Harry shoots to his feet, propelled by the force of his anger.  
  
“You’re right.” Louis sighs, trying to put into words how wrong he knows he’s been, wanting to share all the ways he’s changed and grown, understanding that he can’t force Harry to listen. “I know I owe you an apology, Harry, but I—” and Harry holds up one hand.  
  
“An apology. You think you owe me an apology?” Harry’s laugh is ripped out of him, harsh and bitter, and Louis feels himself shrink back. “For what, exactly? For pushing me away for a year? And then for breaking my heart? For not speaking to me for 3 years even though we were best friends? Beyond anything else, you were my _best friend_ and you fucking _cut my heart out.”_  
  
Harry turns away, shaking, and pulls on his coat, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and starts for the door. Then he pauses, and turns back around to face Louis.  
  
“And now you want to reconnect? What story do you think this is, Louis? What the fuck do you think I’ve been doing for the last three years? Do you think I’ve been, what, just fucking _waiting_ for you?”

The contempt in his voice lashes at Louis like a whip. He burns so bright in his rage, Louis thinks, as Harry just stares at him. He always did, and Louis could never look away. Until now, and as he waits for Harry to break his heart, knowing it’s only what he’s earned, he just shakes his head, and drops his eyes to the floor.

“No, Harry, you’re right—”  
  
Harry interrupts him again. “Do you know how long I cried for you after I got here? I cried every night for _eight fucking months._ I stopped crying when I realized you weren’t going to call me back, you weren’t going to write me, you weren’t _ever_ going to respond. So you know what I did? I got over you.”

Louis wonders blankly if it’s possible that a heart can crack wide open in a man's chest, without ever making a sound. Harry continues, the words spilling out of him as if bursting through a dam, and Louis wonders how long Harry has wanted to say this to him.

“I haven’t been waiting for you like some... some princess under a fucking spell. I haven’t been waiting at all. I moved on, Louis, because I finally understood. You left me long before I left you.”  
  
At that, Louis' head jerks up. He’ll own his part of this, he’ll sweep his own side of the street here but he’ll be _damned_ before he takes it all.  “Fuck you, Harry, my father died. I was grieving, you can’t put it all on me.”  
  
With that, it seems that Harry’s rage drains out of him, and he looks simply exhausted. “I know that, Louis, but that was the entire year before I left. A year of you pushing me away, drowning your sorrows in too much whiskey, too much weed. And you wouldn’t…” Here his voice breaks, bringing tears to Louis’ eyes. “You wouldn’t even try. And it broke you. It broke us. I couldn’t let it break me too.”  
  
“Harry.” Louis pauses, not sure what to say next. There’s nothing he can say, is there? It’s clear now, that Louis’ small and foolish hope that perhaps he and Harry could, in some way, make their way back to each other was beyond misguided. And then, Harry drives in the final nail.  
  
“So no, Louis. We can’t reconnect, because there’s nothing left to connect to. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to do before I go to work.”  
  
Harry turns his back to Louis and walks away through the silent room. Louis can feel the weight of the eyes of strangers on him as Harry pushes through the steam-covered door and out onto the sidewalk and the rain, carrying Louis’ lost dreams with him.  
  
He doesn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi on Tumblr! If you enjoyed this, the rest of my stuff can be found here!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I would love it if you left a kudos or a comment, they all make my day brighter and inspire me to write more!
> 
> [Here](https://phd-mama.tumblr.com/post/169796067168/pov-and-could-it-be-something-from-flch) is the rebloggable Tumblr post. If you enjoyed this, please share it!


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